


Lessons in Existing

by How_To_Be_A_Fangirl_101



Series: Lessons [3]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Hand symbolism, Mono may or may not be the Thin Man, Sad, The Thin Man is his own warning, The Thin Man is not a monster, The Thin Man would either be a bird a mushroom or a spider, he's not a good person either, hopefully ambiguous, nor is he a villain, take your pick, theory-friendly, to continue the animal comparisons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:07:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/How_To_Be_A_Fangirl_101/pseuds/How_To_Be_A_Fangirl_101
Summary: The Man needs a successor.Mono is the perfect candidate.Of course, it's not that simple.
Relationships: Mono & The Thin Man (Little Nightmares), One-Sided - Relationship, maybe?
Series: Lessons [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187654
Comments: 11
Kudos: 91





	Lessons in Existing

**Author's Note:**

> Definition of ether:  
> In chemistry: a pleasant-smelling colorless volatile liquid that is highly flammable. It is used as an anesthetic and as a solvent or intermediate in industrial processes. Or, any organic compound with a structure similar to ether, having an oxygen atom linking two alkyl or other organic groups.   
> In literature: the clear sky; the upper regions of air beyond the clouds. Informally, air regarded as a medium for radio.   
> In physics: a very rarefied and highly elastic substance formerly believed to permeate all space, including the interstices between the particles of matter, and to be the medium whose vibrations constituted light and other electromagnetic radiation. 
> 
> Why am I telling you this? I’m sure you can figure out how pretty much all the definitions are relevant with a bit of creative thinking. Sometimes you just gotta think symbolically, sometimes literally. 
> 
> Also, The Thin Man is called simply "The Man" for reasons. Do I know these reasons? Not really. I dunno; it sounded better to me. Why is "The" capitalized in "The Man"? Once again, I don't know. More dramatic, maybe? If Mono is indeed The Thin Man, it would make sense for his flair for the dramatic to carry over. Or, perhaps The Man picked out a successor that resembled him the strongest.

There are no words for what beings like him are. Perhaps, if beings like him had existed in antiquity, they would be hailed as gods – god of ether, goddess of hunger, and so on. A lesser man might proclaim himself a god anyway, but he has never been lesser and certainly will not begin now. Those who would do such a thing are not fit for any scraps of power they might have, and it is his burden to keep those who would from doing so.

In his spring years, his mandate was order, and he swept across the world like an earworm, wiggling and catching. The residents of this world needed a beacon to crowd around. They needed something to ensnare them, to keep them busy.

They still do. But he is growing old; The Man needs a successor.

The Lady hadn’t wanted one, using the bulk of her power to keep herself from flaking away. Which is why she crumbled so easily to a mere child. Or, she will crumble? Time is an illusion that can be easily ripped apart. The Man knows better than to try to keep time to himself. Life and death are nothing more than the movements of an oscillating wave; there are crests and then there are trenches, that is how things are.

Conservation is more than a universal law, though, it is necessary. Power, like all forms of force, must be conserved. There is no destroying power, only dissipating. He knows that when his wave reaches the axis, there will be horrible consequences. If he finds a successor, the effects will be contained to that one; if he does not, well, all those under his sway will be free to roam and glut. Of course, he is not entirely altruistic; he wants for his empire to continue in his name, to have his legacy carried out in all corners of the world. But, all things considered, he is not the worst to happen to this world, not by far. Whatever happened to bring him and others like him into being, _that_ was the worst. Perhaps whatever being that was identified as ‘God’ died. Perhaps mankind invented a bomb so devastating it could rearrange the atoms of the universe at will, and they emerged from the swirling dust. Perhaps these events are the one and the same. Who knows? Even with all his influence, he has not found an answer.

What matters is that there are no protective measures in the world. There is nothing stopping him from being a global phenomenon, and there is nothing stopping the change that spreads like a plague through the people. He was not the cause of the monstrosities they all became, but he was the one to reign it in.

He has many, many hands. One by one, they all turn to his broadcasts. One by one, he reaches out and tunes their frequencies to his. It is very easy. He has many hands to keep them all webbed to his wavelength. He does not do something as pedestrian as feed on their souls, no; every mind that joins his chorus bolsters the melody, bolsters his power. He does not need to eat, after all.

What do they see, searching in his channels? Why, the grandest show of them all, of course! He is a master entertainer, the best of the best. They see their heart’s greatest desire, whether that be food for the gluttons, pain for the sadists, solace for the weary, or knowledge for the sophists. No desire is too small to feature on his screens, nor want too large. They are all happy in their dreams; he is not a cruel master.

Once his empire expands out to a comfortable range, he desists. He grew weary of conquering, once he had all that he needed. So, he sets himself up in his own station. He grows static and interference around the edges of his confines, and waits for a child bold enough to free him. There are many who stumble across him unawares. There are many who do not have the strength of spirit needed to rule his empire of signals. There are many whose lives he drains to pixels and wisps.

Then, there is a hand who touches a screen. He reaches out, almost bored by now of the process and is ready to snuff it out at any need for tuning. But the boy, he radiates willpower. _Stubbornness_.

It almost reminds The Man of how he used to be, before he grew stretched and lost his vibrancy. He’s always been somewhat flat – the irony astounds him.

The boy’s name is Mono. _Perfect_ , The Man thinks. He is _one_. _He_ is one.

For all his very long life, it is difficult waiting for Mono to cross the divide. Time and time again, Mono is rudely awoken.

The boy is with a girl. He recognizes her by the shadows she keeps wrapped tight under her coat. It does not matter if she is in the process of becoming, or if she has already become. The Lady was weak, and this girl is weak, too. His successor is so much better. Spitefully, he wrenches her frequency apart, making it knell discordantly, like mournful wind chimes to his seventh sense.

Taking her was not really his plan, but he knows that the boy will follow her, follow her right into The Man’s waiting room.

Every time the boy lays hands on a screen and lets himself be swept away in the current, The Man can feel him. The boy is a whirlwind of stubborn desperation and jagged glass-like fear. He will be magnificent. It is formatted to be so.

When the boy resists him, The Man is taken aback at the promise the child shows already. Mono has been learning; the regularly scheduled programs have been helping, it seems. Pride flickers at the edges of his manifestation. A worthy successor indeed.

He does not die, but he lets that corporation of his flicker away. He lets the boy gather up the bulk of his former power, while he dulls his awareness down to embers. He will be there if the boy needs direction. When the boy no longer needs him, he will finally surrender to the dip of the bell curve and be buried under the axis at last. He remains this way until he feels a force direct the boy outside from what should be under his direct control. They are still in his realm, but a level removed.

When the boy sees the enlarged form of the girl, he thinks, _ah, there it is_.

The boy is in the domain of Hunger. Or, at least, on his way there.

Faintly, he regrets freeing the girl from her frail mortal hungers. Her hunger now is for safety, something no one can give in this world. She built up the illusion of solace around her, stealing strands of their transmissions to bolster her imagined constructs. The boy breaks the illusion, and the girl roars out her displeasure.

When the boy leaps and is caught, The Man knows immediately that a part of Mono will not survive this. He thinks Mono knows this, too. Mono does not lash out with the power he has, does not _leap_ forward as he knows he can, does not move to grab the edge. Is it resignation, a wanting to end, an “as you wish”, mere shock, all of this, or other reasons The Man cannot divine? Still, the void swallows them both just as surely as it would for any reason.

Mono only survives the fall because of the girl’s lingering sentiments toward him; her realm of hunger catches them both. Or, perhaps, it is the actions of one who will come back later to feast. The walls constantly drip, and the numerous unblinking eyes watch for sustenance. Hunger is always vigilant, always slavering. When the walls close in, Mono is too bereft to notice. So, The Man gathers their power and _pushes_ them out to the only place he knows is entirely theirs. They are in his waiting room.

The boy’s signals are tinged with despair and an invigorating cocktail of seething shock and bitter fury. He does not move – perhaps he cannot. That is fine; the transmission will act as his eyes, his ears, his hands.

Mono wants to forget. Or, he forgets to forget. The outcome is the same.

It is there, in that bare and patient place, that the succession finally ends. Mono has accepted his place. The last vestiges of The Man’s presence dim and sputter out, able to fully rest at last. It is not a noble end, but nobility is for the ignorant; it is quiet flatline that perhaps should be mourned for signifying an end – two ends, perhaps, or none at all.

The show goes on as it must, and it will be the greatest you have ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Since a commenter in the last one (MuseofTime) liked how I wrote, I thought I'd add in a little behind-the-scenes tidbit. Now that you have both points of comparison, I can tell you that I tried to make Mono think increasingly in sentence structures and vocabulary that resemble the Thin Man's. Hopefully, that got across. Funnily enough, I had to work to make them sound like distinct characters, and I'm still not sure if I succeeded. 
> 
> Overall, this series was supposed to be more happy than it turned out, guys. I think I shoved all of my angst from the game into this. Ah, the perks of self-expression. Plus side, I feel better, minus side, you all get the feels. 
> 
> Speaking of self-expression, I don’t know if I have to give permission, but anyone who wants to write something inspired by this series or draw fanart of this or anything else, you can do anything you like. I give you a carte blanche. Even if I don’t need to expressly say so, it’s worth repeating. 
> 
> Lastly, thank you, thank you, thank you everyone who read this.


End file.
